Things I Remember: 10th Grade Edition (1980-81): The Saga Begins
When I graduated from South Miami High in June of 1983, I felt so connected to my alma mater, my teachers and my friends that it was inconceivable that I had had any moments in which I had not felt any stirrings of "Cobra Spirit" from my first day as a sophomore almost three years earlier.
After all, by the time we of the Class of 1983 gathered at Miami-Dade Community College's Gibson Center to accept our diplomas I had served on both the yearbook and school newspaper staffs, sang in two choir ensembles, helped kick off Cobra Media Productions' TV club, and even attempted to perform in one of the drama classes. I proudly wore my South Miami High baseball cap regularly, along with various T-shirts which touted some of the above-mentioned groups or activity clubs.
And yet, part of me still remembers that my initial feelings about the school were not, um, exactly positive.
You see, from third grade on, I had been assigned to schools which were in Southwest Miami Senior High's "feeder" system. From 1972 to 1977 I attended Tropical Elementary, then went (literally) next door to Riviera Junior High for grades seven through nine, and from there I was slated to go to Southwest as a member of its Class of '83.
This, of course, had been the path that friends one or two grades ahead of me had taken, and all of my plans for 10th grade were based on the premise that I, as a student assigned to Riviera Jr. High's Special Ed department, would also follow that path.
Little did I know, however, that fate (or the Dade County Public School system) had other ideas.
While I was doing my best to finish ninth grade with decent grades and prepare for the transition from Riviera to Southwest, friends of mine who were already in "Eagle Country" were having a hard time because the school's early 1960s design was not really amenable for students with disabilities. Like many high schools, Southwest had a multi-story main building (so did Riviera) but lacked an elevator which could accommodate kids on wheelchairs or with physical limitations that made climbing staircases difficult, particularly in a school setting in which students had to go from classroom to classroom every 55 minutes or so.
Naturally, those Special Ed students who were mainstreamed into regular classes were seriously affected by the absence of wheelchair ramps or an elevator; they'd arrive late to class and had other issues. Of course, they and their parents complained, so the powers that be divided Southwest's Special Ed program into several groups.
Those students with vision, hearing and learning disabilities but no serious physical limitations stayed on campus, while those with mobility issues were sent, indiscriminately, to the more modern facility at South Miami. And for some reason, I was included in the latter group, even though I could, and still can, walk up and down staircases and hallways just as well as a non-disabled person.
As I said earlier, given my fondness for my high school and the friends I made there, it's hard to believe that I was not thrilled by the news I received about a month before the end of the 1979-1980 school year - namely, that I'd not be going to Southwest with most of my Tropical/Riviera buddies, but to a high school where I only knew a few students.
Thus, in contrast with the sadness that I felt on my last day of high school, my first day as a Cobra was one full of frustration, angst and resentment.
Things I Remember: My First Day
1. The Worst Morning Ever: Not only was I so nervous and restless that I woke up at three in the morning on that day in late August of 1980, but I ended up arriving several hours late to school because my bus driver, thinking that I was one of her wheelchair-bound pickups, sped by me as I stood patiently at my bus stop. I had no idea that that bus had been my bus so instead of calling the school and telling them what had happened, I simply stood there like a doofus for two hours (from six to eight in the morning). I ended up having to ask my mom for a ride to a place I had never been to, and we got lost on the way to South Miami. We eventually did get to campus and I was whisked off to the auditorium, where other students who had not been given their class schedules were also waiting.
Sometime around 10 AM, Mr. Passman (who had been a Special Ed teacher at Southwest) collected me and handed me my schedule...and I ended up starting my high school years in Mr. King's third period Business Math class.
2. Dr. Burchell: My next class was Mr. Bridge's Newspaper Production and Basic Reporting course, which my Riviera Jr. High guidance counselor had chosen for me without my knowledge. This class was on the second floor (Mr. King's math class was on the first) and it was emptying just as I arrived because it was lunch time. (If I remember correctly, South Miami had two or three separate lunch periods, and Mr. Bridge's class "got" first lunch.)
Now, even though I had made a stop at the school main office upon my arrival on campus, I only knew - thanks to the "welcome to South Miami" card I had received in the mail a few weeks earlier - that the principal's name was Dr. Warren G. Burchell. I had no idea what he looked like, so when I first saw a scary-looking middle-aged man with a balding head and a walkie-talkie radio in one hand, I assumed that was the principal. (As it turned out, the balding man was one of the assistant principals, Mr. Farthing, who had been given the nicknames "Mr. Lightbulb" and "Bombillo" by previous classes of Cobras.)
A Sideways Detour From Main Narrative: I should mention right now that at the time I had gotten into the habit of wearing a cheap imitation Army jacket which I'd bought that summer at the old Jet Army-Navy Store on Bird Road and 97th Avenue. It wasn't a genuine surplus jacket - the fabric was too light, the buttons came off too easily and had to be constantly reattached, and it had no military labeling like real Army-issue gear has - but it was olive drab and a friend of mine had sewn on a "US ARMY" tag above the left breast pocket and the Americal Division patch on the right shoulder. I also had two brass-colored captain's bars on the collar rank tabs.
And Now, Back to Our Tale:
Anyway, there I was, walking into the cafeteria for the first time, still feeling confused, isolated and a bit angry, when a very dapper man with white hair, a n equally-white handlebar mustache, a Motorola walkie-talkie and a very friendly smile said, "Hello, Captain!"
"Hello, sir," I replied.
"I'm Dr. Burchell, son. I'm the principal. Are you a new student?"
"Uh, yes, sir."
He could tell that I was sort of nervous in his presence, so he put his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly fashion and said, "Welcome to South Miami. Glad to have you aboard, Captain."
Of course, this first meeting between Dr. Burchell and I didn't totally dispel my bleak outlook about being at South Miami High, but looking back on it now, it was one of the experiences I had during my first week in high school that helped me accept my new circumstances and my "identity" as a Cobra.
© 2011-2012 Alex Diaz-Granados. All Rights Reserved
After all, by the time we of the Class of 1983 gathered at Miami-Dade Community College's Gibson Center to accept our diplomas I had served on both the yearbook and school newspaper staffs, sang in two choir ensembles, helped kick off Cobra Media Productions' TV club, and even attempted to perform in one of the drama classes. I proudly wore my South Miami High baseball cap regularly, along with various T-shirts which touted some of the above-mentioned groups or activity clubs.
And yet, part of me still remembers that my initial feelings about the school were not, um, exactly positive.
You see, from third grade on, I had been assigned to schools which were in Southwest Miami Senior High's "feeder" system. From 1972 to 1977 I attended Tropical Elementary, then went (literally) next door to Riviera Junior High for grades seven through nine, and from there I was slated to go to Southwest as a member of its Class of '83.
This, of course, had been the path that friends one or two grades ahead of me had taken, and all of my plans for 10th grade were based on the premise that I, as a student assigned to Riviera Jr. High's Special Ed department, would also follow that path.
Little did I know, however, that fate (or the Dade County Public School system) had other ideas.
While I was doing my best to finish ninth grade with decent grades and prepare for the transition from Riviera to Southwest, friends of mine who were already in "Eagle Country" were having a hard time because the school's early 1960s design was not really amenable for students with disabilities. Like many high schools, Southwest had a multi-story main building (so did Riviera) but lacked an elevator which could accommodate kids on wheelchairs or with physical limitations that made climbing staircases difficult, particularly in a school setting in which students had to go from classroom to classroom every 55 minutes or so.
Naturally, those Special Ed students who were mainstreamed into regular classes were seriously affected by the absence of wheelchair ramps or an elevator; they'd arrive late to class and had other issues. Of course, they and their parents complained, so the powers that be divided Southwest's Special Ed program into several groups.
Those students with vision, hearing and learning disabilities but no serious physical limitations stayed on campus, while those with mobility issues were sent, indiscriminately, to the more modern facility at South Miami. And for some reason, I was included in the latter group, even though I could, and still can, walk up and down staircases and hallways just as well as a non-disabled person.
As I said earlier, given my fondness for my high school and the friends I made there, it's hard to believe that I was not thrilled by the news I received about a month before the end of the 1979-1980 school year - namely, that I'd not be going to Southwest with most of my Tropical/Riviera buddies, but to a high school where I only knew a few students.
Thus, in contrast with the sadness that I felt on my last day of high school, my first day as a Cobra was one full of frustration, angst and resentment.
Things I Remember: My First Day
1. The Worst Morning Ever: Not only was I so nervous and restless that I woke up at three in the morning on that day in late August of 1980, but I ended up arriving several hours late to school because my bus driver, thinking that I was one of her wheelchair-bound pickups, sped by me as I stood patiently at my bus stop. I had no idea that that bus had been my bus so instead of calling the school and telling them what had happened, I simply stood there like a doofus for two hours (from six to eight in the morning). I ended up having to ask my mom for a ride to a place I had never been to, and we got lost on the way to South Miami. We eventually did get to campus and I was whisked off to the auditorium, where other students who had not been given their class schedules were also waiting.
Sometime around 10 AM, Mr. Passman (who had been a Special Ed teacher at Southwest) collected me and handed me my schedule...and I ended up starting my high school years in Mr. King's third period Business Math class.
2. Dr. Burchell: My next class was Mr. Bridge's Newspaper Production and Basic Reporting course, which my Riviera Jr. High guidance counselor had chosen for me without my knowledge. This class was on the second floor (Mr. King's math class was on the first) and it was emptying just as I arrived because it was lunch time. (If I remember correctly, South Miami had two or three separate lunch periods, and Mr. Bridge's class "got" first lunch.)
Now, even though I had made a stop at the school main office upon my arrival on campus, I only knew - thanks to the "welcome to South Miami" card I had received in the mail a few weeks earlier - that the principal's name was Dr. Warren G. Burchell. I had no idea what he looked like, so when I first saw a scary-looking middle-aged man with a balding head and a walkie-talkie radio in one hand, I assumed that was the principal. (As it turned out, the balding man was one of the assistant principals, Mr. Farthing, who had been given the nicknames "Mr. Lightbulb" and "Bombillo" by previous classes of Cobras.)
A Sideways Detour From Main Narrative: I should mention right now that at the time I had gotten into the habit of wearing a cheap imitation Army jacket which I'd bought that summer at the old Jet Army-Navy Store on Bird Road and 97th Avenue. It wasn't a genuine surplus jacket - the fabric was too light, the buttons came off too easily and had to be constantly reattached, and it had no military labeling like real Army-issue gear has - but it was olive drab and a friend of mine had sewn on a "US ARMY" tag above the left breast pocket and the Americal Division patch on the right shoulder. I also had two brass-colored captain's bars on the collar rank tabs.
And Now, Back to Our Tale:
Anyway, there I was, walking into the cafeteria for the first time, still feeling confused, isolated and a bit angry, when a very dapper man with white hair, a n equally-white handlebar mustache, a Motorola walkie-talkie and a very friendly smile said, "Hello, Captain!"
"Hello, sir," I replied.
"I'm Dr. Burchell, son. I'm the principal. Are you a new student?"
"Uh, yes, sir."
He could tell that I was sort of nervous in his presence, so he put his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly fashion and said, "Welcome to South Miami. Glad to have you aboard, Captain."
Of course, this first meeting between Dr. Burchell and I didn't totally dispel my bleak outlook about being at South Miami High, but looking back on it now, it was one of the experiences I had during my first week in high school that helped me accept my new circumstances and my "identity" as a Cobra.
© 2011-2012 Alex Diaz-Granados. All Rights Reserved
Alex, great post, you have a great memory! Nelson Castillo..
ReplyDeleteI am sure that some of those details might be a bit...blurred by the passage of time.
Delete